Martyric Art
by Chojuro
Summary: Subtleties— fine distinctions— controlled by charka strings: Akasuna no Sasori prided himself in such details, molding them into his forte. His work was relentless, thus so was the eternal knowing of his projects being absolute, utmost importance. Things, though, can and will go awry if possible. Mori was kinda sorta stuck in the "gone awry" position.
1. Counting Romances

(Updated A/N: most likely abandoning this story soon for various reasons. If I get a person/review or two that would like to me continue this story, I'll do my best to. Otherwise, I'm not sure I'll be continuing this.) Constructive criticism is always appreciated! The first couple chapters may or may not be a bit dull: it's been a while since I wrote last. Please give it a chance and enjoy!

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><p>He never slept. Literally, day in and out, whenever he wasn't away, he slaved over the same dark-wooded desk. I could never tell what <em>exactly<em> it was that he was doing— he sat in a corner, almost crumpled up into a contortionist's position. I wondered if he and I were alike somehow. I never slept either. I wasn't ever able to understand what was going on though. There was a long time where I thought I was blind; I lost track of how many seconds it lasted, which is very strange for me.

When the dark finally dissipated, the first thing I saw was his smile and those heavy, dull brown eyes. He gently pushed hair from my face and held me in his arms tightly as if he were afraid I'd break otherwise. 152 seconds. Setting me on his chair, he rummaged through boxes and papers not far from his desk, and once he cleared a spot deemed right enough, he positioned me there. I was utterly mesmerized by the way the kinks in his fair locks twisted and turned like a deep red ocean and the way he moved so seamlessly. His touch was soft enough I barely felt it. His lips slightly puckered whenever he was deep in thought. His nurturing air subsided as returned to his desk and scratched something down on paper, eying me on occasion. He drew a long sigh and slumped a bit, "So tired." But he still never slept.

Roughly 173,000 seconds after that— a little over two days— I heard a new voice. It sliced the thin air between my savior and I.

"Danna! Do you plan on coming out any time soon, hm?" I watched the redhead. I'd thought of dubbing him as something like a master although I typically grew shy when thinking of calling him so. I didn't know how else to refer to him. He glared with a hint of fury at the door just beyond me, "possibly." The door squeaked and fell open just a bit.

"You've been in here for over a week, hm! Are you still working on the same damn project?" The new voice asked. It was a low, gruff sound— much unlike Master's. A lengthy whistle followed and Master's face flattened further. The new person invited himself in and squatted in front of me. It was a bit embarrassing how close he leaned in to me, but I quite liked the blue eyes that eagerly peered into my own.

"Rude as always, aren't you," Master growled through gritted teeth, moving back to his work. He didn't seem to be much of a fan of this person. Blue laughed at Master wryly and turned his head queerly, taking in different angles, "Y'know, it's unlike you that you haven't showed this one off already. I'd have thought you'd at least used her by now, hm."

"Unlike you, I don't have to show my artwork off to prove its viability," Master replied. Blue's jaw tightened and he scoffed, "shut up, Danna." 'Artwork'? I wished now more than ever that I weren't so goddamn stiff. I was trapped, motionless, in this cold carcass. I couldn't force any words from myself. They just pooled at the back of my throat and it burned. Blue ruffled my hair and stood up. "_Are_ you even going to use her at all, hm?"

"Soon enough, I suppose," Master huffed, setting his tools down, "she is already experiencing cognition and the highest extent of feeling that she now logically can."

Blue _tsk_ed him somberly, "hopefully she's not as impatient as you are, 'else just sitting there's gotta be torture, hm." He leaned back down into my view with a grin and waved. I didn't see him again for a while. Master left some time after Blue did having once secured himself inside Hiruko, whom was obviously a prized belonging of his, and he said that he'd be back in three or four days' time. I didn't have much to do considering I couldn't consciously move, but I counted a lot. I counted Master's work tools and finished and unfinished projects alike. When I wasn't counting, I was listening to the muffled voices just outside the room. I think the voice I favored most belonged to a female. It was easily comparable to a soft, serene instrumental note, very similar to a lullaby. I also really liked another, although I guess it wasn't so much the actual voice, but the person who it belonged to was polite. I began habitually associating that voice with manners. Whenever I wasn't counting or listening, though, I was thinking about Master.

Blue said it was strange he hadn't showed me off— hadn't used me. Master called me artwork, and I guessed he _had_ to be some sort of artist to have so many projects lying around on top of his relentless work ethic. He hadn't left his room in nearly a week. I didn't understand my purpose, if I even had one. If I did, it was something to do with Master. I was stuck in some sort of glass corpse, staring at the same scene. I was a task of unknown origins. I wondered, then, if Master was thinking about me as much as I thought of him. He never slept but neither did I. I gazed unwillingly into the dark and continued counting and counting and counting.

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><p>256,201 seconds was nearly three days. I couldn't remember when I started counting consecutively again though since my last break, so I hypothesized it'd been roughly four and a half days since his departure. Master would hopefully be back soon and that thought simply sent me over the moon. He didn't talk to me a lot necessarily but I enjoyed watching him go about his day even if he didn't do much, and when he did actually talk to me— oh, it was wonderful! Sometimes he asked me what I thought of various things or he told me about his favorite memories and he solemnly discussed his work. I envied the romanticisms he concealed so well within himself and I wished he would never stop pouring his passions before me. His vulnerabilities grasped his humanity and laid it on the very ground between us: it was breathtaking. The door, as it routinely does, squeaked open.<p>

"I'm back," he spoke as he walked in. My very soul could have left my body. Master let himself out of Hiruko and set him aside. I was overjoyed and he gave me a nearly nonexistent smile whilst he approached me. He lit the dim room and picked me up, my head lulling back. My stomach flipped in succession but I couldn't tell if I was smiling. The redhead opened a large scroll with seals and markings that decorated the parchment. In the center was an open circle, various kanjis within the middle of it. He placed me atop it gingerly and kneeled nearby me.

"I'm sure you're well beyond ready to feel something more than nothing," he stated monotonously. A sense of ennui arose within me. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Perchance, it's unfortunate that part is also eternal. With beauty comes a partially reluctant vanity." The door squeaked again and Master's head snapped to.

"Are you doing... _the thing_, hm?" Blue curiously whispered. Master rolled his eyes and retorted, "I was considering it but I'd rather not have an audience. Out." Blue grimaced, unflappable. He shoved the door fully open and held a hip, "is it really such a big deal, hm?" Master rubbed the bridge of his nose and gave a half-assed wave of defeat.

"Just stay over there if it won't kill you." Blue snickered and cast a lazy glance at us. Master turned back to me and held up a hand sign, "Hitokugutsu!"

I felt my eyes widen, my head was swimming. Reality spun clockwise. I physically remained on the floor but it felt within my bones as if something was pulling me up by a string connected to my very core. Master placed his hands over my heart and all at once, the vision of me hanging suspended disappeared as some sort of force crushed me back onto the ground. The exacerbation of my sudden coughs didn't at all help the head rush. I weakly propped myself up and inhaled deeply.

"I have to say, well done, Danna! Hm." I looked at Blue for the first real time, then back to the man before me. Master looked very pleased with himself; but I purposely avoided his view and sat all the way up.

"Hey, you okay, hm?" Blue asked.

"Yeah…" God, my voice sounded so foreign.

"Good. Well, the name's Deidara. Yours?" I nearly choked as I looked at Master pleadingly. He simpered out of twisted amusement, "you don't remember." Shoulders slumped, I couldn't remember anything before the darkness. Was I supposed to? I denied quietly.

"Her name is Akamori— Mori for short," he stated, "seems her memories were wiped." I pursed my lips shyly as I apologized, but he shook his head indifferently.

"Your name… Sasori-sama?" I questioned. Deidara snorted loudly, "Sama? That's a bit... _unfitting_, isn't it, hm?"

I blushed, remaining quiet. Master shot him a glare, "you don't have to berate her within her first ten minutes of remembered consciousness, useless brat." Deidara was a bit taken a back, realizing the other man had a point.

"I'm Akasuna no Sasori." His tone returned to the calm, soothing demeanor I'd been so taken by.

"A pleasure." I barely managed to spit the words out. I steadied myself to stand and Sasori grabbed my forearm. He caught my confused expression and huffed, "you're not going to be very stable at first. Take it easy." There was obviously something weird going on here and I wasn't for certain if it was a dream (or nightmare) yet. Considering the sanity-splitting blackness, the sudden "rebirthing" or sorts, dissociative feelings... something happened. I was apparently a strain of artwork carved by Sasori himself. At the same time, there were things I was supposed to remember but didn't have so much as an inkling of a clue to what the hell was going on about. I didn't know my name was Akamori. I didn't even remember what my own voice sounded like. But there was Akasuna no Sasori who I, for some reason, felt oddly indebted to. He somehow made it seem like this was all his fault, thus I didn't know why I was prematurely assigning him a part or act of heroism, but he was the one at the end of my tunnel. He was the first memory I had and that had to count for something.


	2. Void Obligations

A/N: thanks for the follows on this story. I'm hoping you guys won't be disappointed!

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><p>I still wasn't used to moving yet. It'd been 4,080 seconds— over an hour— since I'd tried going anywhere. Sasori, earlier, pulled a chair into the room nearby him as if he knew I wanted to watch what he was going to do. He asked a few times if I wanted to go out of the room, and at every instance, I fervently shook my head with disapproval. He almost seemed annoyed on occasion. I didn't know what to do though... there were questions I was holding in that desperately <em>needed<em> answers while there were questions that I simply _wanted_ the answers to. But I was too afraid to ask regardless. I was too afraid to even speak— I didn't know if it was because I didn't like my voice or that I was scared I didn't remember how to say anything.

Deidara opened the door, poking his head in, "Mori-chan, hm?" I turned silently toward him, eyebrows cocked nervously.

"Wanna come out yet?" He questioned. A chill ran up my spine and I quickly denied. The blonde's expression fell into disappointment as he sighed. I felt bad but it was for my and everyone else's good.

"Are you sure, hm?" I bit my lip and glared. I glared daggers. He already knew the answer.

"Go, Mori-chan." Hearing that was almost like one of said daggers digging into my very own back. I snapped around to look at Sasori, "Sasori-sama? But I..."

Not turning from his work, he locked eyes with me and my throat went dry. That intimidating air he produced was a sort of sheer cold that could knock anyone out. I turned back to Deidara blankly and smoothed my clothes as I stood. He pepped back up and held the door open for me. My steps were painstakingly shaky and unsure, and I only felt close to comfortable after I grabbed hold of Deidara's shirt for support. He kind of laughed at me about it and that didn't help me feel any better. Sasori just wanted to get me out of his hair for a while so I'd stop breathing over his shoulder, I was sure.

We passed various well-lit, darkly-painted rooms but didn't see anyone.

"Deidara-san..." He tilted his head back a bit. "Where are we... going?" Deidara crossed his arms. We turned right at the end of the world's, apparently, fucking longest hallway and

took another series of turns.

"I'm gonna introduce you to the boys, hm," he stated firmly. That didn't sound promising at all. Where even were we? Was this some sort of violent gang? It had to be something vaguely similar, at leasat. Sasori wouldn't relentlessly go on about weapons and poisons and cures for nothing. God, I was in a dangerous place. What if they killed me? My limbs began to lightly jolt. We grew closer to whatever the destination was and more and more bustle resounded through the place. Deidara suddenly stopped on a threshold to a deep maroon-colored room causing me to bump into him. I peeked around him just as he moved away from me. We'd caught a small crowd's attention obviously, as they previously had all been focused around a large television.

"This is Mori-chan, guys, hm," Deidara pronounced. One of the men leaned forward, his eyes scaling the length of me, "ah, so this is the new wooden whack job, huh?" Hidan Wooden whack job? Where the fuck had _that _come from? I clenched my fists. That silver-haired bastard had another thing coming, that's for sure.

"Ironic coming from the likes of you," Kakuzu a masked man beside the first, I dubbed "Rude Ass", snorted. Deidara leaned toward me, "everyone here is a whack job so don't take that personally, hm."

"So, Mori-san! You're the one Deidara has told us about," Kisame a familiar voice said, "you seem to already hate it here as much as the rest of us do. Nice to meet you, despite the circumstances."

"Such assumptions must be very appreciated," the black-haired man by him replied.

"Hey, do you even know how to talk?" Rude Ass asked. A twinge of anger began bubbling in my abdomen and I felt my growing warm. I flipped him off, turned around and began unsteadily heading back to Sasori's room.

"Great job. She's probably never coming out of that room again now, hm," Deidara grumbled. Rude Ass slapped his knee with a cackle, "if she's that much of a pussy, she shouldn't." I cautiously shut the door behind me and slumped in a space out of Sasori's way. He cast me a short glance and remained silent. 367 seconds. He set a metallic-something down on the desk. "Are you going to share what happened?" 150 seconds. I gnawed on the inside of my cheek timidly.

"I got called a 'wooden whack job'," I muttered begrudgingly. He turned to me, remaining clearly unimpressed, "by who?"

"Silver-hair," I replied, shrugging. Sasori stepped to his bookshelf nonchalantly, a hand on his chin. "Stupid to let your feelings get hurt by a stranger, particularly someone you don't know. He's a psychotic, sociopathic idiot with absolutely no filter or care for anything besides his personal deity. It's nearly natural Hidan would approach you as such."

"Being an asshole by nature shouldn't justify his personality," I said. He scoffed, "and just because something's unfair doesn't mean it's unnatural. Did you say anything to him?"

I slumped down more, "No... I couldn't make myself say anything." Sasori grabbed my arm and pulled me onto my feet. He observed me a moment and blinked. "Don't be ashamed of that. You're above them each personally and shouldn't at all feel obligated to speak with them." He returned to his seat. 179 seconds.

"Why did you tell me to go with Deidara-san then?" I asked sheepishly.

"You'll have to get used to them eventually." He sighed, "try to understand that there's a difference between acquaintances and friends. Relations are pointless." I was quiet. Ninety-one seconds.

"Come sit," he simply said. I did so and looked at him. He didn't reciprocate that unsurprisingly. I took a deep breath, "Am I really one of your projects?" He stopped a moment, a thoughtful brow rising.

"You are."

"What kind?" I asked.

"One I value greatly," he replied. I hadn't exactly been expecting that answer. "So I actually _am_ a wooden whack job?" Sasori huffed, annoyed "You aren't. Look at yourself." Seamless skin, though I hadn't exactly fully checked myself out for obscene protrusions. I wouldn't be able to remember what was out of place anyways. "You're like a second image of myself," he continued, "but unique. Eternal. A true art piece." I managed a small smile in response. It didn't sound so bad when worded as such. There had to be loopholes somehow, but I was happy enough for the time being. He glimpsed at me, "I did you a favor: leave it at that." 1390 seconds.

"Make yourself useful if you're wanting to watch, Mori-chan." He handed me a mortar and pestle and placed a various assortment of herbs and bits of strange substances within the bowl. "Be sure to crush it finely, it's something I use regularly. Tell me when you're done."

Quite a bit of time passed, but I counted in sets because I kept getting distracted. In the following days, Deidara stopped in to berate Sasori with a succession of questions, much to his dismay. I generally enjoyed seeing Deidara although Sasori didn't seem to; that made me want to venture out into the "unknown." There was always quite a bit of bustle outside of the little box I never left and a spark of curiosity popped behind my eyes occasionally. I would give the door a pensive stare and Sasori usually noticed, though never said much about it. When he did, he assured he wouldn't be bothered if I left for a bit. After a while, I inhaled sharply and stood. "I'll be back." Not faltering, I was almost worried he didn't hear me.

I peeped out of the door first and slipped into the hall. I threw hesitant side glances to the rooms on the left and sped up upon seeing Rude Ass— _Hidan_, whatever— in one of them. I entered the room Deidara had taken me to before and instantly spotted said man. I carefully tiptoed nearby him and he haphazardly spotted me, continuing to double-take. "Oi, Mori-chan! What's up, hm?"

"Uh, hey, Deidara-san... could I join you?" I mumbled nervously. The state of shock my appearance induced seemed to gag him but he patted a place by him on the couch nevertheless. I hadn't even attempted to look at the others in the room— I was focused on just being in company other than Sasori and almost enjoying it.

"Seem a little clammed up, don't you?" A chuckle followed. I anxiously surveyed the person sitting a number of feet away. Blue skin, darker blue hair, sharp smile. I was quite taken by him: he was one of the voices I favored. I laughed apprehensively, "sorry... Nothing personal."

"It's okay to be nervous," he waved casually, "Hidan was an asshole about it, but I almost started wondering if you were mute myself." I looked away shyly. "I don't like talking much but I can."

"You're probably the only one here besides my partner Itachi that feels that way—" a laugh ensued "— so you're Mori. My name is Kisame; it's a pleasure."

"Yeah... likewise," I replied, simpering softly.

"Oh, you've come out of hiding! 'Bout fucking time." Hidan's proclamation nearly sent me to hell and brought me back. His saunter was so unnatural... so _unreal_. I grimaced and gave a half-assed attempt at a smile.

"What? You act like I don't have people skills." He slicked stray hair back and winked at me, grin full of malice.

"First impressions weren't so promising," I replied flatly. He snorted and plopped down nearby Kisame. "I thought I saw you pass by my room. That put a little pep in your step, huh? Scared?"

"Can you lay the fuck off, hm?" Deidara barked. I appreciated that: I was glad I wasn't the only one he was bothering.

"You'll have to excuse Hidan. With females, he never stops deviating between constant asshatery and excessive flirting, hm," the blonde by me added. Kisame snickered, "Ain't that the truth! If you're lucky though, he'll eventually chill out enough to share actual conversation with." Hidan deadpanned whilst Deidara and Kisame continued joking merrily.

"You fuckers are gonna burn in hell, seriously!" Hidan composed himself and leaned forward, groaning loudly, "all right, all right. I'll cut you some slack. Don't wanna scare you away, for reasons best left unspoken..." My eyes widened and I covered my mouth.

"You wish, hm," Deidara cackled, a tear welling in his eye. "For one, she'd never go for someone she hates, and two, Sasori would gut you and hang your ass up to dry, hm!" Hidan placed a hand over his heart, beseeching: "Mori-san, you hate me?" I pursed my lips, shortly raising my eyebrows. He sighed and slumped back, "ah, good to fucking know."

210 seconds, in my eyes, qualified as an uncomfortable silence. Whatever was on tv wasn't holding my attention and I wanted to quit practicing "relations" while I was ahead so I bid the trio farewell and went back to my and Sasori's box.

"Fare better this time?" He asked, attending a set of glass vials. I perched by him, nodding. "Yeah. I feel better. Sasori-sama, do you... ah, _dislike_ Deidara-san?"

"As a partner, no: artist, yes." His firm response made me pity Deidara a bit. "He doesn't value things that deserve it most. Why do you ask?" The question almost sounded like a statement.

"It seems you're not very fond of him is all."

"Art is very prevalent to me. It's of utmost importance," Sasori said. "he's a terrible waste of talent, but he's a decent person in general respects. Good to know you're comfortable enough around him. Remember our talk though."

"I know," I said, "relations are pointless and I shouldn't feel obligated to talk to anyone." He chuckled softly, "correct. Would you like to assist me again?" I smiled in concurrence. I'd be a fool to say no.


	3. Weird Pieces

A/N: here's chapter three! Thank you for the review on this story. Any feedback means so much to me! I'm glad at least one person is enjoying this so far— I feel it'll improve with time.

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><p>Walking and speaking were becoming easier (I considered those to be small victories), so I did something on impulse. This was the first time I'd really taken a look at myself in a mirror; I was neither particularly revolted nor overjoyed. Lengthy nut brown hair, dull gray-colored eyes, fair skin, average stature, ball-jointed limbs, hollow sections carved into my abdomen: I looked incomplete, which triggered my consistent wonder. Was I supposed to be like that? Sasori, expressionless, watched me poke and prod at myself. "I still need to add a few things."<p>

I slumped a bit and slipped my shirt back down.

"I've already seen it all," he said, dismissing me, "no need to hold onto any shame." I turned to glare at him darkly. "I'm not ashamed! Geez..." Such a flustered statement drew an uncharacteristic chuckle out of him. He was in the middle of another few-day-long artistic binge but he'd been talking more than usual recently. Part of me started speculating that he actually got lonely on occasion or maybe even tired of being grumpy all the time.

"Of the two points in that statement, you chose your lack of shame to argue," he continued dully, "surprising." I picked up a crumpled paper ball by the trash bin and tossed it at his head (although I missed dreadfully). "You're really pushing my buttons, y'know... anyways, I can't be astonished that you know me inside and out. You made me into art so that's expected, right?" He smirked and nodded once. "You learn quick. Unpredictable. Definitely a gem of my personal art." I felt my cheeks grow warm and I rolled my eyes, continuing to ask: "What do you have to add to me?" Sasori delicately laid a blueprint out on the bed in his room and pointed to various sketches. They appeared fairly menacing.

"Why does everything have to have such... terrifying defense mechanisms?" I muttered in sheer bewilderment. He rolled the blueprint back up and popped me atop the head. "Why do you _think_?"

"I don't know!" I pleaded out of distress, holding my head, "that's why I asked!"

"You are my pawn and I am Akasuna no Sasori— Sunagakure's disowned, renowned rogue ninja, part of the Akatsuki," he explained, sardonic. I was wary of such an account and certainly wasn't wrong when I'd assumed that I was in a dangerous place. I glanced at him silently.

"Don't look so apprehensive," he said with a dangerous smile. "You were made to be shown off to a world that knows nothing of the beauty that is pristine _adroitness_— dexterity, precise detail crafted with genuine virtuosity. Those that revel in blind ignorance should be dealt with mercilessly therein."

Sasori's jubilations nearly never failed to somehow _casually_ yank crestfallen anguish from somewhere deep within me. I wringed my hands lightly in my lap to suppress the anxiety that was crawling up my esophagus. "Is it wrong that frightens me?"

He leered in my direction and grabbed my jaw softly. "I don't think it's necessarily fear, Akamori-chan. Perchance a misplaced excitement." His fingers twisted around the space of my mandible languidly and his crazed thoughts were mitigated as his countenance eased. "It's not wrong to be scared. Things seem strange, but my weapon designs aren't created for vain use. You'll understand soon enough, okay?" I didn't want to ask anymore questions anyways.

46,800 seconds— a dash past half a day, by and by: I experienced something like a stream of consciousness. Sasori had cored me of my insides, of my very soul, and defined it as aptitude, craftsmanship. I didn't understand if I truly was as miraculous as he passively stressed but I felt like a macabre walking freakshow. A _wooden whack job_, dare I'd said it. He knew he had bothered me; and I was afraid he could read my mind and that I'd never know how to secure understanding of the full magnitude which was the very man I constantly tried harmonizing with— whom I desperately sought approval from. The air thinned with time, and he tried talking about things that weren't as serious as his weapons, but I felt so cold inside. He laid me on his desk and filled the holes that spotted my flesh. That fluorescent light overhead could very well have blinded me so I used that as excuse to shut my eyes and shut them tight. He probably knew. The redhead twirled my hair amid his fingers and but I never wavered. He was nowhere near perfect (or even close to being mentally or emotionally satiating) but I was important to him and I had to be grateful for that. Somehow.

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><p>A number of days later, I'd realized I'd been too absentminded to manage counting passed 180. That was so unlike me. But between the somber feelings I was beginning to harbor against Sasori and experiencing the craving of figuratively wanting taste someone besides him, it was impossible to focus on anything. I told Sasori I would be back later after helping him sharpen an assortment of tools. My ankles still seemed to roll too far under excessive pressure. When I happened to spot Kisame, I waved for his attention. He returned the favor with a warm greeting.<p>

"How are you?" My elation questioned. He shrugged coolly and chuckled a bit. "Been better, been worse. You? Haven't seen ya in a while."

"I've, uh..." I bit my tongue anxiously, "I've been good, just needed a stretch."

"I'm glad you did," he replied, sounding matter-of-factly. He invited me to follow him into the kitchen and I did so happily. The room was the largest I'd seen in this place. It was furnished with excessive cherrywood cabinets, tables, and chairs; a dark tan paint accentuated the walls surrounding. He pulled a chair out for me and sat on the other side of the table. He propped his chin on his hand and sighed. "Does it not bother you that you're constantly with Pipsqueak?" For some reason I didn't think Sasori would've agreed with that pet name. I awkwardly rubbed my neck, knowing that Kisame was watching every move I made.

"Was that question out of line?" He worriedly asked. I pepped up, shaking my head. "No! No... I just— I wasn't expecting that. It doesn't necessarily 'bother' me because he more or less takes care of me, I guess... I owe him a lot."

"Are you sure?" He prodded. Well, that didn't put even more pressure on me at all... "Yeah! He made me like him. True art." I felt like Sasori was in my ear telling me what to say, because in reality, I had no clue how I felt. He half-shrugged and snickered, "have you told Deidara that?" I tilted my head in confusion. "Why would I?"

"Speak of the devil," he paused to stare the blonde down as he walked in.

"What's that look for, hm?" Deidara growled instantly. Kisame shook his head and looked at me, "give it a shot, Mori-chan. Put some muscle into it."

"Deidara-san, I'm true art," I declared with determination. Deidara surprisedly staggered back a few steps, glaring at me. "I... Maybe not _true_ art, hm... but I don't mean that badly! You're just, uh... not a bang, hm! That's it! Wait—"

Kisame gasped and laughed loudly, "damn, criminally harsh, ain't'cha?" Deidara scowled at him as he panicked to back-peddle out of what he'd said. "That's not what I meant, hm! You are a 'bang', just not a _bang-_bang, hm!" He crossed his arms and nodded once, as if for confirmation of his 'final answer'. I slumped, eyes locked on him.

"Huh?"

Deidara deadpanned but composed himself, "... I can never win when it comes to a woman, hm..."

"Why don't you speak up a bit, blondie?" Kisame taunted. He punched the blue-colored man straight in the cheek which, in turn, led to Deidara being grappled into a headlock.

"Let go of me, you fucking fish dick, hm!" The hold around his neck tightened.

"Your superiority complex is utterly astonishing..." Kisame grumbled complacently. Deidara was struggling through an uphill battle and he knew it. He grabbed Kisame's arm and suddenly a yelp escaped said man. I jumped lightly, shocked. Kisame hastily released him and rubbed his bicep, "always a dirty fighter..." Deidara's grin was certainly sour as he grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of the room. I hurriedly spun back to catch Kisame, "I... I'll see you soon!"

"What did you do to his arm?" I asked. I was almost fearful of one, what his response was going to be and two, that my flimsy limbs were going to give out underneath me.

"Bit him, hm." He freed my wrist to show his upturned hand— in the center of his palm, a small mouth smiled at me. I returned the favor, and when Deidara noticed, he flusteredly brought his hand back to himself. "I know it's weird, hm." I huffed at him and grabbed his cloak sleeve. I raised my shirt to show grotesque breaks in my stomach— some were solid, due to Sasori's recent tuneups, but a few open spaces remained from before.

"I kind of wish the weird pieces of me could smile, too." Deidara's countenance eased into a sympathetic smile, "doesn't seem as bad put that way, I guess, hm." He started walking again and I tailed him eagerly, "where are you going?"

"I figured I'd take you with me to a street market, that way you can see that sunlight actually exists, hm," he mused. Eighty-three seconds. There it was. I wouldn't have been surprised if I was exiting the darkness again— a band of overwhelming daybreak blaze. I had to overcome an influx of horror as I entered the beacon. This time, I didn't see Sasori's face. He wasn't holding me close to him. It was vacant air with a hint of a breeze that picked up and rustled through the trees, which served as a lush canopy. Flowers and grass and clouds in the sky.

"Beautiful day, isn't it, hm?" Deidara pulled me back down to my senses and I candidly nodded. "You haven't been out here since... y'know, have you, hm?"

"No," breathlessly I muttered, "and I regret it." He chuckled faintly and continued onwards.

"So, what did you mean that I'm a bang but not a _bang_-bang?" I wondered aloud, following him. It looked as if a chill ran up his spine, the way he straightened up so quickly. "Ah... well, I didn't mean it like you're not attractive but like... not a _bang_, hm."

"I'm... attractive?" I mumbled, watching him through a side glance. I tried to not think much of it. Another chill had to have run up his spine again. "I— uh— say what I mean and mean what I say," he rambled rapidly, "but who cares what I think, hm. Anyways, _this_ is what I meant by a bang, hm." As he threw a small figurine in the air and yelled "katsu!", an explosion of various colors confettied throughout the air before us. My eyes lit up— I felt like a kid in a candy shop. "That was... so beautiful!" Deidara chuckled, half-admiring the scenery we were passing by, half-avoiding my smile of appraisal. "Thanks, Mori-chan, hm..." I nodded happily and kicked an odd grey pebble for a while until accidentally knocking it into the brush nearby. "So... what're you running errands for?"

He shifted toward me shortly; had he forgotten I was there? "Me and Danna have a mission soon, hm. Has he not said anything to you about it, hm?" I faltered and watched my feet as we walked. "No. He doesn't tell me very much."

"I see, hm... It's nothing personal. He's been acting strange lately, hm," Deidara explained, sounding somber. "Things will be okay, hm." I didn't say anything back to that— the only Sasori I'd known was the seldom talkative, power-hungry artist with a deathly weapon(s) fetish. Then again, I'd guessed I hadn't really tried talking to him a lot recently. That was something I'd have to seriously do. He obviously did value me, considering the work he'd put toward me, whatever he was planning on using me for. I could at least try making it known that I appreciated him. In the mean time though, I figured hanging around Deidara wouldn't be a bad idea. He was nice enough and he'd be around because of Sasori anyways. And he found me "attractive" (even though I'd told myself I wouldn't pay attention to that). The next thing I needed to assess: were people— for lack of better term— even supposed to experience feelings? My work was obviously cut out for me. 271 seconds and—

"Mori-chan, hurry up! I'm not waiting on you, hm!" I snapped to and realized that I'd come to a standstill. Another fluky grey agate-looking pebble was nestled nearby my foot... strange. I pocketed it and made haste. Hopefully Sasori wouldn't mind if I was going to be gone longer than I'd anticipated. I could always blame my weak ankles.


	4. Varied Humanity

A/N: chapter four! Any criticism is welcome with open arms so lay it on me. Sorry this one's a little short. Thanks to everyone that gives this story a read, whether you do or don't like it in the end. :)

Also, next chapter, I'll be bumping the rating to M... just in case my mind happens to wander.

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><p>"Wooow," I gushed, "this place is so lively!" The small bazaar Deidara had taken me along to was lined with cesious, blue-grayish tents and stands. I really wished I'd had money.<p>

"This is a nomadic market, hm," Deidara remarked. "It has a large following so it's not hard to figure out where they've moved to, hm."

"Oh, I was wondering why we were out in the middle of nowhere..." I trailed off, awing at the people around me. He laughed a bit, "it's nice because I don't usually get discriminated against during most visits, hm."

"Why would that happen?" I asked in confusion. Little kids were twisting in and out of small crowds of people, and I waved happily at some passing by.

"Being an Akatsuki member doesn't exactly gain me any respect, hm," Deidara told me. "Do you not know what the Akatsuki is, Mori-chan, hm?" I shook my head. "Sasori gets a bit too... maniacal when it's brought up so I don't ask about it."

"Well, it depends on who you ask, really, hm. We all have our own motives; take me and Danna for example. We want to show the world what our art means, hm. But behind each of our motives, none of us were recruited because we wanted to be— we were all, give or take, rogue ninja at some point and the Akatsuki sort of gave us a fucked up home, y'know? Something to do, somewhere to go, hm." That made sense: more than what I was gathering from Sasori anyways. It worried me, but I was almost happy that Sasori supposedly wasn't acting like his normal self because that meant there was possibility he could be more enjoyable to be around.

"Oh, okay. What's the main goal?" I asked, peering around his shoulder as he stopped at a small shop. He absentmindedly picked something up and examined it. "Last I heard, world domination, although it started out as a peace movement, hm. Konan could probably tell you more, seeing as Leader probably won't say shit about it to anyone. You haven't met her, have you, hm?" A shot of vigor hit my bloodstream. That was her name? She had to be the one I remembered from just after the darkness. I felt a strange bond toward her, come what may— I was aware it was strange. It was probably bad she was the only thing I picked out of that (y'know, between her and the whole dead peace movement I was basically living amidst).

"I've only really met you, Kisame, and Hidan," I remarked. He gave an obnoxious, jeering laugh, "man, it's weird hearing that: you haven't met even half of the gang, hm." Hearing that, I wasn't at all enthusiastic to do so, but as long as they weren't half as bad as Hidan, I would be okay. I didn't know if it happened all at once or while I wasn't paying attention, but the people previously on the pathways between the shops seemed to disappear. I studied carefully and, nervous, shifted back to Deidara. He paid for a couple of items and took the bag that the merchant placed them in. I grabbed his sleeve, "Deidara-san, where did everyone go?" He glanced around himself and frowned, "it's possible that someone recognized me. Just stay cool, hm." We began walking the way we came when he noticed a small floral hairpin at a seemingly abandoned tent— he picked it up, placing a pile of yen in its stead, turned to me and clasped one of my locks out of my face. "It looks nice on you, hm." A blush crept onto my cheeks— I was taken aback and couldn't help but sputter before thanking him graciously; Deidara kept that confident smirk.

It took 1,440 seconds to get home, and I wasn't very happy to be back. It was simply too lovely in the outer world. When we entered the cave, the large barrier replaced itself, and darkness overtook once more.

"What do you say I introduce you to everyone, hm?" He asked. I happily obliged of course. We walked into the "common room" where Kisame and Hidan sat with a couple of other people. I felt my sudden wave of apprehensive nausea was justified. Kisame leaned to wave at me, "Mori-san, you're back!"

"How's it hangin', Sweetcheeks?" Hidan asked offhandedly, never neglecting the tv. I waved and greeted them. I guess Hidan was actually serious about being less of a dick.

"Mori wants to meet the rest of you guys, hm," Deidara said, continuing to point each of the other members out, "Kakuzu, Itachi, Zetsu, and Tobi. Konan and Leader aren-"

"Moriiii-chan!" One of the masked men sang as he easily cleared the couch to kneel in front of me. He grabbed my hand and nuzzled it lovingly, "Oh, Tobi has heard so much about you. You don't seem as weird as Tobi was told! Do you have detachable parts? Do ya?" I was mortified. I slowly removed my hand from his grasp. "As far as I know..."

"Tobi!" Deidara knocked him in the bad of his head, "chill out, hm!" Tobi whined disappointedly, hanging his head in shame. "Tobi didn't mean to bother Mori-chan..." I laughed half-heartedly and patted his head. He perked up quickly, "does Mori-chan forgive Tobi?!" I nodded awkwardly. "S-sure?"

"Yaaa-tta!" He exclaimed, popping up to his feet. "Tobi can show Mori-chan all the ropes around here if she wa-" Deidara grabbed his ear and yanked him out of the way, glowering at him as he did so.

"Deidara-senpai can't hog Mori-chan," he muttered, rubbing his ear.

"Yeah, what the twerp said, Deidara," Kisame added in, chuckling all the while.

"I-I haven't been hogging her, hm!" He protested quickly. "Not my fault no one else will take her places, hm..."

"Who the fuck said _I_ won't?" Hidan pitched in. "I'd take her tons of places, seriously, we just have to decide where. C'mere, Mori-chan. Sit on my lap and we'll see what pops up." He winked at me with a cocky grin plastered on his face.

"You perverted bitch!" I yelled, utterly shocked at him and myself. Everyone locked onto me— Deidara even.

"Oh, so you are feisty! I just had to pull it outta you," he said with a charismatic charm, "I can't promise I always pull out though." The room settled into total silence. He rubbed his head, still goofily smiling. "Man, what a selfish bitch. You'll have that body to yourself all your life but you can't spare it one night?" I opened my mouth to hurl a comeback but Tobi held a finger up, "question for Mori-chan!" I raised a brow, annoyed, and listened as he cleared his throat. "Does Mori-chan have sex even though Mori-chan isn't human?"

"Shit, wanna test it out?" Hidan didn't miss a beat. The group absolutely died off-their-asses laughing— and I meant, _died_— besides perhaps Itachi and Kakuzu.

"You'd be the last person I'd _ever _test that out with!" I yelled, feeling tears pricking at my eyes. I'd always been way too sensitive under pressure, and I was currently down for the count. My face was beet red and I'd resorted to my common tactic: making as crazy and mad of a dash that my limbs would allow, straight to the impenetrable protection of Sasori's room. I hastily blinked the tears away before calmly pushing his door open. That same damn squeak assaulted my ears with no mercy. I was expecting to see him at his desk, but rather, he sat on his bed, back against the wall, looking so very dull; I could only tell due to the low lighting. He remained immovable. I shut the door and sighed.

"Akamori-chan," His voice almost came as a whisper, "come here." I blinked, confusion setting in. When I was close enough, he gingerly pulled me onto the bed and into his chest.

"Sasori-sama, what're you doing?" I mumbled, feeling like I'd just been electrocuted. Sasori breathed deep and his fingers slid around me onto my back softly. "Feeling," he replied monotonously. I sat between his legs, my forehead pressed to his neck. "Feeling... what?"

"I'm unsure. Something I forgot was conceptually real. It's a mix of things. When I look at you, I can feel guilt searing my insides," he explained, his voice flat still. "I remember things I shouldn't."

"I'm sorry." I was unknowing of the right to say. He laid a hand on my neck. "An artist's soul lives on through his work for the remainder of eternity, and you are the very humanity that is left in me. Don't be sorry." My breathing hitched and I felt my heart skip a beat. "Deidara said that you've been acting strange... Is this what's normal for you?"

"No. I've never done this," Sasori whispered. "Though it's... disgustingly comforting." A faint smile prodded at my lips— he and I were the same there, in present position and thought both, among other things.

8,799 seconds and blackness began to envelope the room. I thought Sasori had reached the light to put it out, but I couldn't be sure. I could barely even remember him having moved. Part of me felt so oddly at home and part of me wondered if this was how normal people felt emotions and what emotion this would've been called. My brain was numb and my heart was racing but I could only muster enough strength to close my eyes.


	5. Grieving Travesties

Rating change from T to M. Probably going to end up abandoning this fic fairly soon. I may continue it if there are people that actually want this to be updated regularly.

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><p>I couldn't bring myself to count: I wasn't sure if it'd been because I'd forgotten to or because I was concerned by the fact that some amount of seconds could measure how long Sasori acted like he bore humanity. When I didn't put a numerical tag on it, it <em>seemed<em> like he was conscious of the material realness around him, and it _seemed_ like it lasted for hours. When I opened my eyes, I realized I'd been laid on my side and left alone in the dark. I jolted onto my feet, nearly rolling an ankle in the process, and tiptoed down the dingy hall. Over time, I'd managed to memorize which room was Deidara's so I knocked on it lightly. I heard a small thud and rustle and soon after, the door fell open. He looked pissed until shock eased onto his countenance. "Mori-chan... what're you doing up so late, hm?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize how late it was... do you know where Sasori-sama is?" I whispered.

"He mentioned going out or something," he said through a yawn, "I wouldn't worry too much. Danna can handle himself, hm." I nodded and sighed, "well, I'm sorry that I bothered you. I al-"

"Wanna come in, hm?" He asked quietly. I paused a moment: why was he inviting me in? Did I do something that provoked that? I shyly agreed and stepped in. An old lamp on his nightstand exposed a rather simple room: paintings, sculptures, and white walls. A lone corner hoarded various art supplies. I shifted to him and shot him a small smile. "Was there something that you, uh, wanted to talk about?" Once he'd secured the door was shut, he advanced toward me and took the hairpin out of my hair before readjusting it. His cheeks held a pink saturation that dusted across his skin. "Not anything in particular. But I'm sure you're lonely, hm... so you can hang out here if you want." He stretched and launched himself onto the bed. I hesitantly laid on the other side, looking awkwardly at the ceiling.

"Sorry I laughed at what Hidan said earlier," he spoke. I glanced at him flatly. "It's no big deal. I know he was just kidding. I probably would've laughed if I wasn't the victim in the situation."

"Y'know, that means he enjoys you. He's not a fan of Konan so he never says anything to her, hm." I rolled my eyes whilst listening to him. "Part of me wishes he didn't 'enjoy' me then." He chuckled and quickly added, "everyone who suffers from that agrees, Mori-chan, hm." It grew quiet once more.

"Does being... 'art' bother you, hm?" I shifted my view to him thoughtfully, "y'know, I'm not sure. I don't know how it's different from being like any other person. I can feel when someone touches me, I can smell, I hear. Those are the main things, right?"

"Are you ever sad, hm?" He asked.

"Well... not exactly sad. I don't know an accurate word to describe it though. I guess I'm fearful a lot of the time," I replied, shame rising up in me, "but I'm happy, too." He watched me for a moment, worry smearing across his complexion. "You know you were a person like me before Danna made you into what you are, right, hm?" I nodded in reply. "I've seen how he makes people into puppets... only once, but it's still a morbid process. It should bother me that he made me this way but for some reason, it doesn't because at least I'm not dead, yeah?" He huffed, face blank.

"Why do you ask?" I wondered aloud.

"Just concerned about you, hm," he muttered. "I don't know what it feels like so I don't know what to think about you." I gave him a sharp leer. "What do you mean? I'm still a person, Deidara-san!" A blush crept onto his cheeks as he laughed. "No, no, hm! I didn't mean it like that exactly, I ju-"

"What _do_ you think about me then?" His blush increased and he ran a hand through his hair. That was the first I'd seen all of his hair down— it toppled down like a blonde waterfall that pooled around him gently. It was so... strangely inviting.

"I... think good things, so far at least, hm..." Came his flustered grumble. I jerkily reached over and lightly touched his hair. He watched me with soft, sleepy eyes. That smile was as beautiful as the fireworks his art produced: I was stunned. His sculpted jawline tightened momentarily and he swallowed hard as he rolled onto his side. "Your hair is prettier, y'know, hm." Deidara ran a hand over my hair as I did his but his demeanor hadn't been as anxious as mine. What was this feeling? The cool air of his room caused my skin to crawl and I shivered; the mouth on his hand was pressed onto my cheek. He moved a bit closer with intent eyes and face still a faded red. The space between us began thinning and as it diminished, my heart rate grew sporadically. Footsteps echoed through the outside hall and we both sat up on either side of the bed.

Well, _that_ was weird. The door opened after a nearly inaudible succession of knocks. Sasori leaned in. "We're leaving at dawn, brat." Deidara chuckled nervously, looking away from him. "S-sure thing, Danna." When Sasori disappeared from sight, I scurried out after smiling unsurely at Deidara. I followed Sasori into his room and he sat on the edge of the bed, holding his forehead in his hands whilst leaning his weight on his knees.

"Sasori-sama, are you okay?" He blinked, nearly out of what seemed a daze. "I am," then changed pace altogether. "Lay on the desk. I'm going to finish what I started working on the other day."

I hated that fucking phosphorescent white light he always used. I kept my eyes shut as the redhead diligently worked; silence enveloped him with a hand stronger than before.

"Where did you go?" I asked quietly. He hummed shortly, "not far to anywhere in particular. I've always had an affinity for nighttime." He pulled my shirt up to show my stomach.

"I see... Ah!" He sat up stiffly to glare at me. "What was that?" I laughed out of embarrassment. "It's just cold... Sorry, Sasori-sama." Sasori smiled as he turned to fetch a variation of tools.

"You perplex me sometimes, you know," he said. "I'm glad you're the one to be like me. To understand."

"Most of the time I don't feel like I understand at all, though..." He picked a spot to add onto and peered at it for a while, thinking as he did so. "I'm disappointed you feel that way but I know why you do. I've been reserved more so than usual lately for personal reasons but I'm beginning to feel more like myself. I've been experiencing... 'emotions', as you know. I'm unsure as to how I should handle that. I try to ignore them." The way he emphasized "emotions" in a displeased tone caught my ear. I frowned, still keeping my eyes closed. "Maybe you should try to embrace them instead instead of ignoring them." A silence fell over Sasori but his hands didn't still. 160 seconds. I reached over and placed my hand on his cheek, my thumb gracing over it. I didn't know what I was doing, but when Deidara held my face in his hand, I felt safe. He continued working after pausing a moment, just as before.

"You're warm," he stated, moving the lamp from my face for once. I opened my eyes and sighed, relief fluttering through my body. I was seeing colorful dots swim through my vision, but I could at least see without risking blindness. I began to move my hand when he grabbed my wrist and held it in place. "I don't know why you're so warm." I felt blood pooling in my cheeks as I shifted to look at him. I noticed he'd abandoned his tools and his posture was more lax.

"Is that weird?" I asked. His dull brown eyes settled onto me once more. "That's not a good word for it but it's something vaguely related." He stood from his chair, picked me up, set me on the bed, then stepped back from me. I was obviously confused. "Sasori-sama, what're yo—"

"You accept emotion much better than I, Akamori-chan," he muttered. "I want you to teach me." I felt so small under his gaze. Fidgeting in my spot, I asked, "how?"

"I don't know yet," he paced to and fro, a finger on his chin. "I've thought a lot about this... _concept_. I've never been one, even during my childhood, to revel in feelings: when I was young, I only knew the travesty of grief. That was due to the loss of my parents. I haven't been close to anyone because, whether puppet or not, I will always be able to discern the feeling grief. I am the epitome of such state. But you—" he suddenly turned to me, a peculiar shine in his eyes, "you and I are one. You don't know the extents of what I, or even you, have seen but we are composed of the same organic materials... and that— that is what I've come to value." I was utterly awestruck; I stood slowly and nervously approached him. Sasori took my hands and placed them on his cheeks.

"This is beyond out of character for me, I understand," he remarked, "but I've come to realize that I will never be able to seal away these things that I cannot and will not want to cope with. If I can release them all at once from time to time, perhaps... I'll be able to better handle myself. If I could just begin to understand them. I'm unsure." He bore a faint smile that caused skin to tingle.

All at once, Sasori softly placed a hand on the back of my neck and pulled me to himself, pressed his lips onto mine. My knees weakened and that tingling in my skin spread into a fiery blaze. I almost forgot to breathe until he pulled away from me, and as he did, gravity seemed to diffuse— my body was so nauseatingly light. I didn't know if I was confused or worried. Sasori caught onto that and began nursing a contemporary need to further explore what we'd found ourselves in.

"What— what was that, Sasori-sama?" I asked breathlessly, my hands falling from his face some.

"A strange compulsion of sorts," he replied. His face, as red as mine, echoed something that of a child's: a countenance full of wonder and newness. He pulled me to him again, ravaging my lips with his own before his moved to my neck, and I was left to my thoughts; a small moan toppled from my lips and he firmly pulled me closer in response. His hips met mine and once they collided, my back hit the bed. My core tightened as he pulled my shirt off in one hasty swoop and met my pert breasts with a hand. "You—" he kissed me once more, "are simply divine." I was unmoved. I didn't understand what was going on or why my shirt was thrown somewhere unknown. I didn't understand why these were the measures necessary for him to _feel something_. This nearly felt primitive.

"Sasori-sama... what are you feeling?" I asked through weighted breaths. He only paused a moment to smile darkly at me before tugging my pants off.


End file.
